midsummer
by Acacia Thorn
Summary: Corpses, she decides, are simply people who have forgotten how to breathe. ThaliaLuke; minor PercyAnnabeth references. For Juliet.


**Author's Notes:** For Juliet's birthday :) Hopefully you don't hate it? Neh.

* * *

**midsummer**

_in summer, the song sings itself – _William Carlos Williams

by Acacia Thorn

* * *

By the young and chaste age of seven, Annabeth has their life planned out.

The entire idea came to her weeks ago, when she was poking uninterestedly at the lump of green-and-gray _stuff_ Thalia had prepared as dinner, dividing it into uneven clumps but never actually bothering to eat it. She had looked up to complain to Luke about Thalia's lack of maternal ability, but stopped short when she found him.

Thalia and Luke were talking quietly, worry lines creasing their young faces and frowns biting at their lips. Luke kept on running his hand through his hair and then scooting closer to Thalia, and she kept on twirling a strand of grass around her finger until it broke, then moving on to do the same to the next blade. They seemed upset, and they must've been so, for neither one detected her presence; usually they were much more alert.

As the rays of sunlight carved designs into Thalia's raven hair and wove intricate seams of color into Luke's blue eyes, however, Annabeth thought they looked magical. She scooted backwards, hiding behind a tree, as Luke turned slightly.

He whispered something to her.

Thalia smiled, her eyes dancing with mirth.

And they looked absolutely perfect.

* * *

OO

* * *

When Thalia turns fifteen and Luke seventeen, they will kiss, Annabeth thinks, knowing them well enough to interpret that their lack of romantic knowledge would postpone the first move into their relationship. They will kiss and it will be wonderful because those worry lines will go away, she feels, because they will be happy.

It will happen during the fall. They both hate the winter and the summer because it's either too cold or too hot, and Thalia has allergies, so spring would be a definite no. Annabeth giggles at the thought of an almost-grown-up Thalia sneezing on an almost-grown-up Luke as he moves to kiss her.

She can picture it perfectly. There will be grand oaks and bright orange and red leaves and twisted branches and a breeze blowing through their hair, and his eyes will sparkle and she will laugh and then Annabeth will join in the picture as the third part of their family, see, because there _can't_ be a LukeandThalia without Annabeth.

(She doesn't give in to the hint of doubt that tells her, _maybe they'll leave you one day._)

Then they'll really be like the parents she's always wanted.

* * *

OO

* * *

When Thalia's twenty and Luke's twenty-two, she imagines decidedly, they will get married. It's a little young, sure, but they've always liked to rush into things and Annabeth is sure that the ones that get married earlier love each other more, like in fairytales.

(She kind of doesn't want to remember that she's stopped believing in fairytales now.)

Thalia won't wear a dress, because she's _Thalia_ and she doesn't do dresses, but Annabeth can picture her in a t-shirt and jeans and Luke in an equally casual outfit, having a small wedding with only a few people attending, where the demigod world can't touch them and they promise to live _happily ever after_, forever and always, water and ice _(Thalia and Luke)_.

* * *

OO

* * *

When Thalia's twenty-two, give or take a few years, they'll have their first child. It'll be a girl, Annabeth just knows it, with spiky blonde hair and big blue eyes that sparkle in the sun like her father's, and Thalia will be upset that she doesn't look like her mother, but Thalia, being Thalia, will try to hide it. Luke will know, though, because Luke _always_ knows, and tell her that their baby girl has her mother's face-shape and smile.

And they'll be happy, together.

(Annabeth forgets to add herself into the equation.)

The baby—the one with a bubbly laugh and dimples and a cute _ie_-ending name—will be the luckiest in the world, Annabeth figures.

* * *

OO

* * *

Five years later, when Luke is twenty-nine, they'll have another baby, this time a boy, a male replica of Thalia. He'll be a quiet child—reserved, but obnoxiously loud once comfortable, and owning up to Thalia's legendary temper.

He'll love his elder sister, Annabeth thinks, a little bit ruefully. He'll love her, yes, but they will bicker and pull at each other's hair like normal siblings do.

(They'll be the _brother and sister_ that Annabeth always wanted to be a part of.)

They'll shine—she knows they will; the four of them together, alone and yet not in their bliss of contentment.

* * *

OO

* * *

The kids will grow up and Thalia and Luke will grow old together, telling stories to the neighborhood children and playing all those old-people games that Annabeth's heard of, smiling and laughing and being _forevermore_.

(And she, _she_, the oh-so-very-smart daughter of Athena, she forgets about the "demigod" part of their lives.)

Because as far as she's concerned, Thalia and Luke will be together forever, like two people out of a children's book, and they'll be lit up by the sunset and powered by the wind for as long as they live.

* * *

OO

* * *

And it'll happen one day, all right?

* * *

OO

* * *

Annabeth relays these thoughts to Luke, who laughs and pats her on the head and says, "We'll see." Annabeth doesn't really like that answer, but she doesn't say so, because _we'll see_ is pretty much equivalent to _one day_.

* * *

OO

* * *

There's blood. A lot of blood, see? It's staining her clothes and slipping through her fingers as she tries desperately to cling to it, not caring about the blemishes on her shirt—not caring about how much it _burns_.

* * *

OO

* * *

Tears, salty and raw and hurtful, pour down her cheeks.

She's a kind of innocent mess, and if there's one thing Annabeth hates, it's being naïve.

* * *

OO

* * *

She doesn't bother trying to dig them a grave, because she's pretty sure that they wouldn't want that.

* * *

OO

* * *

She leaves after a lot of crying and wallowing in self-pity, silently cursing her naïveté.

* * *

OO

* * *

And somewhere along the (broken) line she meets a boy with sea-green eyes and a stupid smile, and he heals her (sort of, not really—but she can pretend).

* * *

OO

* * *

She refuses to admit that she still sees a perfect little family of four in her dreams, and soon the colors blur and the thoughts change and she can't remember exactly what Luke or Thalia looked like _(I thought Luke was the blond one—no, maybe that's Thalia—)_ but that still doesn't stop her from pretending they're there, next to her, instead of an oblivious boy that likes to swim in the ocean and makes the corniest jokes.

* * *

OO

* * *

Somewhere in a field that will never really be forgotten, a seven-year-old daughter of the wisdom goddess is trying to convince herself that corpses are simply people who have forgotten how to breath, and that they'll come back if she can teach them again.

* * *

OO

* * *

_And one day, the ocean-boy notices that this girl, see, she's such an innocent mess.

* * *

_

OO

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**Author's Notes:** … aaaand, it's utter crap. It would be better, Jules, if you had _told me it was your birthday_. *looks at pointedly*

And I'm sorry and you prolly hate it and … agh. D: *wallows in sadness* I'mma go die now, byebye. *exits*


End file.
